This was originally posted on January 20, 2017, a day which will not live in the annals of comedy. Nobody was in the mood for humor that day. I wrote this piece to get over my depression, because laughter is the best medicine. I re-read the piece the other day and thought, “Oh, if only, if only it had really happened this way!”Crack open a cold one and I hope you enjoy. Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

The original title was “Donald’s Magical Moving Day, The Movie”


ESTABLISHING SHOT. EXTERIOR. WASHINGTON, D.C. THE WHITE HOUSE. AFTERNOON.
CUT TO: INTERIOR. LONG SHOT. TRUMP STANDING IN THE HALLWAY TALKING ON THE TELEPHONE.
                                                                        TRUMP
                                                                      (on phone)
“Kellyanne, where is the bust of Vladimir?  I want that for the bedroom.  You know how important that is to me. All right, I’ll wait a little while.  But I’m not sleeping here tonight if that hasn’t been delivered.  That’s right, I feel that strongly about it.  What’s that? No, that’s not all.  Where’s the rest of Ivanka’s stuff that she made for me?…the nut bowls… I’ll tell you what nut bowls!!! The ones that are made of nickles and quarters that are in the bar down the street at the Trump Hotel!  Yes, Ivanka designed those. (pause) What do you mean, you sold those to the Red Roof Inn for cost?!  Eye, eye can’t bee-leave this!  I was yuugely fond of those nut bowls!  I was going to give them as gifts to foreign ambassadors!  Where’s the nearest Red Roof Inn, I want you to get them back! (pause) Look, just make sure that my gold leaf gets here because I don’t know exactly what I’ll want to change. This place is yuuuuuge.  Oh, and there’s too many pictures here, Kellyanne.  The portraits.  I don’t want to look at a bunch of paintings of old dead men. Well, I sort of thought that we could maybe get more mirrors — right, brighten the place up.  Ok, bye.”
                                                                         SOUND EFFECT
“Psst! Psst!”
                                                                        TRUMP
                                                        (looks around at the sound of hissing;
                                                          shakes his cell phone)
                    “Must be something wrong with this.  I’ll have to have Reince take it to the store. “
                                                                        SOUND EFFECT
                                                                         “Psst!”

TRUMP

(turns and sees a shadow darting down the hall)

“Hey, who’s there? I’m talking to you!”

(Trump lumbers towards the sound)

A VOICE

“Now calm down, boyo, you’ll be givin’ yourself a fit.”

TRUMP

(drops his phone, when a small being steps out of the shadows)

“Holy s*it! What are YOU?!”

FLANNERY

“The name’s Flannery. As to what I am, what do you think that I might be, you odmahun,* being three and a half feet tall, dressed in green velour and smokin’ a pipe? I live here too, ya know.”

TRUMP

“You live here? How?”

FLANNERY

“Why I was invited, don’t ya know.  I’ve lived here since that nice young Irishman graced these hallways.  Oh, he was a fine man, that one. Very beloved by the Irish and everyone else. The Irish don’t like you I must say. Nor their American cousins.  I don’t like you meself.”

TRUMP

“Hey, I’m the boss!”

FLANNERY

“Somebody’s boss, to be sure and somebody’s president, too, but not mine and not my kinfolk’s. Be that as it may, I am willing to help you, because I’m willing to help my fine adopted country. I have something that you need. Something that Lincoln left for his karmic twin, whomever that might be, and it turned out to be Kennedy. And Kennedy bequeathed it to all presidents worthy of the name. No Republican has ever gotten this legacy, it shouldn’t surprise ya, and the chances of you getting it are less than none. So I’m here to help.”

TRUMP

“Huh?”

FLANNERY

“Ah, you’re a dense one. Let me explain a bit more.  This legend of ‘the White House treasure’ has been rattlin’ around Skull & Bones and all the old boys’ clubs for some time now. Richard Nixon found out about it, and he was dyin’ to get his hands on it. He’d be liftin’ a glass by himself late at night and he’d go a wanderin’ down the halls talkin’ to Thomas Jefferson hangin’ there on the wall, and he’d be bangin’ on the floorboards, hopin’ to find the treasure somewhere.  He was quite a mess, especially towards the end. He thought that the treasure of Lincoln was somehow going to save him.  And he might have been right. Ironically, he didn’t know that the treasure of Lincoln was in fact, the treasure of knowledge. But Nixon never found it. LBJ found it, Carter found it, and Clinton as well, and Obama had no trouble a tall.”
                                                                           TRUMP
                                                            “Knowledge?”
                                                                            FLANNERY
“Oh, yes, the knowledge that the Pharohs and such had. The knowledge that every great leader has ever had since time immemorial and the knowledge that, without which, one cannot lead a tall.”
                                                                             TRUMP
                                                             “Treasure?  Here in the White House?”
                                                                              FLANNERY
                                                             “To be sure.”
                                                                              TRUMP
                                                              “Where is it?”
                                                                              FLANNERY
“Well, that’s why I’m here.  You need the knowledge more than anyone that I’ve ever encountered in all me born days, and certainly more than any leader I’ve ever known.  And I’ve known quite a few. Me cousin Shaunessy used to pop into Winston Churchill’s garden from time to time for a  chat. He took me with him once and we had a wee nip, the three of us, and sat around chewin’ the fat, but that’s a story for another day. The sun is movin’ across the sky, so and it ’tis, and I must be goin’. Nice chattin’ with ya.”
                                                                             TRUMP
“Wait, don’t go! I need the treasure. You have to help me!”
                                                                              FLANNERY

“Do I now?  And what’s in it for me?

TRUMP

“What do you want?”
                                                                              FLANNERY
“What have ya got?”
TRUMP
“I’m a billionaire…well, actually not, but Vladimir will help me, just name your price and I’ll call him and I’m sure….
                                                                               FLANNERY
“God God man, don’t waste my time! You think that I’d sell the knowledge of the Pharohs and the legacy of Lincoln and Kennedy for baubles!”
                                                                                TRUMP
“If not money…then what do you want?”
                                                                                FLANNERY
“Well, how about…how about your immortal soul?”
                                                                                TRUMP
“I don’t have that anymore.  I sold it to get here.  Actually, I sold it…a long time ago.”
                                                                                FLANNERY
“I thought so. Well, that’s truly a shame.  Although it’s a blessing that the dear Lord only gave us one soul apiece, and wouldn’t allow us to sell the souls of our wives or our children, yet unborn. There are those who would you know.”
                                                                                TRUMP
“That was discussed, too.  I promised Satan the entire Republican party, but he laughed in my face and said he already had them.”
                                                                               FLANNERY
“Oh, I don’t doubt that for a minute! Well, boyo, I’m going to do you a favor. Follow me. (They walk down the hall. Flannery reaches out and turns a knob.)  Here is the room. ” (In the darkness, Flannery opens a door that creaks on its hinges.  A musty smell pours out through the open door and Flannery strikes a match, illuminating cobwebs.)
                                                                                TRUMP
                                                                   “I can’t see!”
                                                                                FLANNERY
“Just get in here, ya dolt.  (The door slams shut behind Trump.)  “Now do as I say. Hold your arms out and take these boxes. Get a firm grip, now. And follow me.” (Flannery lights a candle and leads the way down a short, dark passage that narrows sharply as they advance.)
                                                                                TRUMP
                                                                    “Hey, I’m getting stuck! I weigh 300 pounds!”
                                                                                FLANNERY
“I’m not here to discuss your health, I’m here on behalf of the people, to try to save their bacon, not yours, truth be known. Here we are!” (Flannery slides open a panel and steps through an opening,  holding it for Trump to step through. Trump bends down sharply groaning, trying to avoid hitting his head on the bottom of the mantlepiece in the fireplace of the Oval Office.)
                                                                                  TRUMP
                                                                     “We’re in the Oval Office.”
                                                                                  FLANNERY
“Well, now that you’re here, I’d call it the Oaf-All Office, or maybe the Offal Orifice, sure and that’s what it is.”
                                                                                  TRUMP
                                                                        “Huh?”
                                                                                   FLANNERY
“Never mind. You’d better get to opening your gifts, Donald.”
                                                                                   TRUMP
“Oh, yes, my treasure.  The treasure of knowledge that will make me a great leader!  Ha, ha, ha!”
                                                                                    FLANNERY
“‘Tis no wonder you don’t laugh in public.  You do it horribly.”
                                                                                    TRUMP
“I know.  What’s this?” (Trump lifts a tag on the box and reads it. ‘Truthfullness.’ Trump fingers another tag. ‘Compassion.’) Say, what is this?! What are you trying to pull here?!”
                                                                                    FLANNERY
“Just open them as you come to them.  These are what every great leader has ever had, ever known.  And remember this: these gifts are individual. The way that you receive each piece of knowledge depends upon how profound the quality of what’s written on the tag is already in you.”
                                                                                     TRUMP
                                                                             “Whud you say?”
                                                                                     FLANNERY
“Someone’s coming Donald. Just open the boxes. I must be goin.”
                                                                                     TRUMP
                                    “Boxes?  You said that they were gifts!”
                                                                                     FLANNERY

“Oh, they are that, to be sure.  The gifts of the spirit and of a true and virtuous life.  And they’re available to anyone just for the takin.  What you’re able to make of them depends upon you, entirely.”
TRUMP

(Trump opens the box labeled “Truthfullness.” A scorpion comes out and stings his hand.)
“Ouuuucchhh!!! Flannery!  Help me.”
FLANNERY
“Afraid that I cunnot do that, Donald.  The truth hurts sometimes, you know.  Or perhaps you don’t know, you’ve had so little dealin’ with it. So long!”  (Flannery snaps his fingers and vanishes.)
                                                                                      TRUMP
(Trump opens the box marked “Compassion.” A skeleton’s hand comes out and slaps him in the face.  Then he claws open the one marked “Wisdom,” and snakes come out, hissing and snapping.)
“Aggghhh! Get off me, get off meeeeee! (sobbing) “Go waaaayyyy! Go waaaayyyyyy!”
CUT TO: CLOSE UP. REINCE PREIBUS TALKING ON THE PHONE.
“Hello, Kellyanne? Look, you’ve got to get over here, stat. Donald is freaking out.  He’s freaking OUT!  He’s on the floor, writhing around, and he’s yelling about snakes and rubbing his arms, saying, “Go away” to something that’s not there. Is that freaking out enough for you? (pause) Listen, Kellyanne, I didn’t want to mention this, but you know, well his father…Please, Kellyanne, he’s going to be in a treatment home someday for the same hereditary, irreversible, progressive brain disorder that killed his old man long before four years is up. He already showed signs before this!…alright then come over here, but make it pronto, because Mike and Steve and Rudy are on their way and if they see him like this it is not going to be pretty.”
CUT TO: EXTERIOR WHITE HOUSE. WIND BLOWS THROUGH THE LEAVES ON THE TREES. A VAN PULLS UP. DOOR SLAMS, A SCARFED FIGURE RUNS IN THE PORTICO DOOR.
CUT TO: INTERIOR. SAME FIGURE AS OUTSIDE ENTERS THE ROOM WHERE REINCE STANDS.
                                                                   REINCE
(Seeing a charwoman come in, he goes to her to block her view of what’s going on.)
“Uh, hello, ma’am, we don’t need any cleaning done in here right now…”
                                                                   KELLYANNE
“It’s me you idiot!” (Kellyanne pulls off her scarf.) “Here!” (She shoves a bundle of cloth at Reince.)
                                                                   REINCE
                                                         “What’s this?”
                                                                   KELLYANNE
“Just put them on. stupid, and be quick about it! I’ve got a truck parked outside the French doors! Hurry!”
CUT TO: LONG SHOT.  A CLEANING LADY AND A JANITOR HUSTLE A BUNDLED UP OLDER MAN INTO A VAN. The older man has his arms crossed in front of him like he’s wearing a strait jacket.
                                                                     FLANNERY

“Well, now, that’s that. Garbage in garbage out. (Flannery puffs on his pipe.) Sort of like Guy Fawkes day, without all the fuss. The moral of this wee tale is, “Virtue is its own reward and lack of virtue…is its own reward too. Oh, and immigrants, we get the job done. Time to go home and watch me Twilight Zone re-runs. Sliante!**”

(Flannery leaps into the air and clicks his heels together.  As his heels touch there’s a burst of white smoke and he vanishes.  The white smoke curls up into the sky as we hear the sound of sirens squealing in the background, and a harvest moon appears on the horizon next to the Washington Monument in the distance.)

The End
___________
*odmahun — idiot

** Sliante! — Irish blessing pronounced “slan-sha.” The Irish use it to toast one another’s health.

HAPPY ST. PATRICK’S DAY!!!!

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13 COMMENTS

  1. Ohh dear – it’s ‘slainte’ and it’s not a blessing (just the first word of a toast which does actually go on for some time with responses ) and it’s not odmahun – it’s ‘amadan’ (which is really Downe’s Syndrome – the word for a foolish person is ‘leibide’)

    Cibe ar bith – Beannachtai na Feile oraibh go leir
    (Anyway – Blessings of the feast to one and all)

    • See the problem here is that this all gets watered down over time. My three Irish immigrant grandparents knew all this. My parents got whatever version they got and then it was passed on to me. Like a game of telephone, things get changed in translation.

      Did you like the piece, apart from the errata?

      • Oh the gist was great – but I blame Hollywood for a lot of misconceptions: for example, REAL leipreachain don’t wear green (they wear red), they aren’t knee-high to a grasshopper but normal (people) size. I could go on but you get the idea (and btw, we do take a lot of things seriously. When John De Lorean was building his factory the locals warned about digging into a ‘fairy fort’ on the site. When he went bust, they shrugged and said, basically, “We DID warn you not to do it”
        Now as for the toast: it starts with ‘slainte’ and the response is ‘slainte ‘s saol’ (Health and wealth). The FULL thing is ‘Slainte agus saol agat, gob fliuch agat, bean do mhian agat, paiste gach blian agat, talamh gan chios agat, agus bas in Eirinn’ (I left off the accents because there is a problem that US computer settings just can’t handle them)
        (may you have) Health and wealth, a wet beak, woman of your choice, a child every year, land without rent and (may you) die in Ireland

        ps – it’s also my birthday LOL

  2. Every President in my lifetime has had stupid attacks, and it goes back to Presidents long before I was born. Or my parents and grandparents for that matter. It happens even to the best and brightest of them. Of course some have been neither the best and/or brightest to begin with but I’m getting ahead of myself.

    Humorist Dave Barry’s musings made me laugh again and again over the years when he put his thoughts to paper. In one weekly piece he postulated that hidden somewhere in the attic of the White House is a machine that puts out stupid rays specifically tuned to affect Presidents, and that over time it makes them progressively more stupid. Personally I think there’s something to Barry’s theory when you look at history and Presidential statements or decisions that cause even supporters to go WTF? Barry didn’t take it this far, but I think the machine’s rays affect some more than others. He also didn’t develop the concept that some Presidents have been pretty lame in the brainpower department before even being sworn in. Maybe since most who become President visit the WH at times over the years before getting elected and it knows ahead of time they will one day occupy the Oval Office and gets a head start! That brings me to Trump, who was so fucking brain fried “stoopid” the machine said “Fuckit – I’m taking the next four years off because this asshole is beyond my ability to turn into any more of a dumbass than he already is!”

    It IS fun though to think of Trump in terms of such a hallucination, and being so stupid even when told what the actual treasure (the type we all should hope to find and early in life) is he still thinks it’s actually REAL gold instead of the fake gold he decorates his surroundings with.

  3. You should send it to the Lincoln Project with updates; ie: fast forward just a bit to a ficticious 2020/2021. I like it and am not going into semantics or translations of Gaelic. It’s the content that matters.

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